Once upon a time there was a twelve-year-old boy named Theodore. He lived with his mother and his little brother in a small apartment. His mother worked hard at her job, and at cooking and caring for Theodore and his brother. She often seemed tired to Theodore. Sometimes when he looked at her, he felt like he could almost see the tiredness, like an invisible weight pressing on his mother’s shoulders, trying to squash her down. He always wanted to say or do something, when he sensed that, but he didn’t know how to fix it. So he would do what he could, wash the dishes or sweep the kitchen, and then work extra diligently on his homework.

The name Theodore means “gift of God.” A couple of years ago, when Theodore was ten, he had learned that that’s what his name meant. Most of the time he didn’t pay any attention to that; but sometimes he would stop to wonder: why was “gift of God” his name? He had asked his mother, and she had simply said that her grandfather had had that name, and she had always liked the sound of it, and so that’s what she had named him. And Theodore thought, maybe that’s all there was to it: maybe it’s just that Mom liked the sound of her grandfather’s name.

But maybe there was more. If the name Theodore means “gift of God,” did that mean that Theodore had a special gift from God? And if so, what might it be? How would he find out? Or did it mean that in some way Theodore himself was a gift from God? And if so, what might that mean? What would it mean, to have or even to be a gift from God?

In early December there was a meeting after church for all the children who were part of the annual Christmas pageant. Mrs. Williams was in charge of it, as she always was. She had been in charge of it when Theodore’s mother had been in the Christmas pageant, many years ago. The first few years that Mrs. Williams had been in charge, she had wanted the children to learn lines that they would speak, to present the Christmas story as a simple skit: “Is there room in the inn?” “There’s no room in the inn.” “Let us go to Bethlehem and see.” But it was hard for some of the children to learn their lines, and harder still for them to say their lines loud enough to be heard. We’ve all hear little children shout and scream loud enough to rattle the windows, but put them in front of a crowded sanctuary on Christmas Eve, and suddenly they lose their voices.

So Mrs. Williams had long since given up on presenting a Christmas play, and had settled instead on making an annual Christmas tableau. Every year there would be a narrator – sometimes a teenager, sometimes the preacher – who would slowly read the Christmas story, excerpts from Matthew and Luke, with pauses for the children to move. The narrator would tell how Mary and Joseph went to Bethlehem, and the children representing Mary and Joseph would simply have to walk quietly to the center of the chancel and sit down on little stools there. The narrator would tell about the angels giving the message to the shepherds, and the shepherds and their sheep would gather on one side of the chancel, the sheep on all fours and the shepherds standing still, and the angels would stand on the risers at the back of the chancel, trying to look angelic – and occasionally succeeding. The narrator would tell about the wise men from the east, and the wise men would march in on the other side of the chancel, and stand in quiet reverence. They would pause, and hold their positions in the tableau for a long moment, as a visible representation of the Christmas story. Then the organ would start to play softly, everyone would sing “Silent Night,” there would be a prayer, and everyone would go home.

It was quiet, and reverent, and simple, and lovely. That’s how they always did it.

At that meeting in early December, Mrs. Williams gave each child a sheet of paper, with their name and assignment on it, and the schedule of the rehearsals. The children would have lunch and a rehearsal every Sunday after church; and the final rehearsals would be on the 23^rd of December, and 4:00 in the afternoon on the 24^th of December. Then the pageant itself would take place at 7:00 on Christmas Eve.

As it turned out, this year Theodore was going to be a shepherd. This did not surprise him. He had been a shepherd for the last three years; before that he had been an angel, and before that, he had been a sheep. He had never been Joseph; he had never been one of the wise men.

But Theodore did not complain about that. He knew he was the oldest child in the Christmas pageant. He had actually been a little worried, thinking he might perhaps be too old to take part. He supposed this would be his last time. And even though he didn’t get to be Joseph or one of the wise men, he still thought the Christmas pageant was something very special, and he was glad he could be part of it this one last time.

Then Mrs. Williams got sick. She would not be able to direct the pageant. Theodore heard his mother talking with some of the other mothers at church; would they have to cancel the Christmas pageant this year? It should be simple enough for someone else to take over. The Christmas tableau was not a difficult production. But being there for all those rehearsals was quite a time commitment, and everyone was so busy these days, especially at Christmastime. Maybe it would be best if they skipped a year.

But then, as it turned out, Miss Grayson volunteered to take over. There she was, at the next rehearsal. Theodore thought there was something strange about her. He didn’t think she was as old as Mrs. Williams, though he could tell that she was older than his mother. As she directed the rehearsals, she often spoke with kind of a harsh edge to her voice. It made some of the other kids think that she was mean. But somehow Theodore could recognize that it wasn’t really meanness: it was sadness. He could see it: something had put this deep sadness in her. He didn’t know how that could have happened. He realized that he didn’t even know how he knew she was sad. She wasn’t terribly gloomy all the time. Sometimes she would be chatting with some of the other church ladies, and someone would say something funny, and Miss Grayson would laugh along with the others. But when Theodore looked at her, even when she was laughing, he could still see this sadness, deep in her soul. What did it mean? Theodore didn’t know.

On the last Sunday rehearsal, Miss Grayson made an announcement. “Children, we are going to do something different this year. We are not going to sing Silent Night at the end. We are going to sing Hark the Herald instead. And instead of singing it softly, we are going to sing it loud, because we are going to be proclaiming something, something wonderful. The birth of Jesus is the story of saving the world, and we’re going to try to do it loud enough for all the world to hear it.”

That was a surprise to the children. Still, they liked the idea of being loud. Loud enough for all the world to hear it. So at that last Sunday rehearsal, they sang through Hark the Herald four times. The first time was pretty quiet: the children knew Hark the Herald, but they weren’t used to singing it all by themselves. The next couple of times were a little better, and the last time through Miss Grayson had them singing loud. “That’s good,” she said. “We want it to be loud: singing loud about the glory of the newborn king.”

On December the 23^rd they rehearsed again. They ran through the tableau, and it was fine: everyone moved into their proper place at the right time, without any difficulty. Then they sang through Hark the Herald three times: loud, louder, and loudest. Everyone was having fun, seeing just how loud they could sing it. At the end, Miss Grayson said, “I do believe I could see the stain glass windows vibrating, on that last time. Do it just like that tomorrow night, and it will be great. Everyone be here by 4:00 for the last rehearsal; then we’ll have pizza; then we’ll have the pageant. See you tomorrow. Except: you four shepherds, I need to talk to you for a few minutes more.”

Theodore wondered if they were in trouble. Miss Grayson said to them, “Here’s what I want you boys to do. After everyone has sung Hark the Herald as loud as you can sing, I want you shepherd boys to jump down from the chancel and shout. And you have to shout loud. When we get done singing, the pastor is going to read one more line at the end: ‘The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen.’ As soon as he does that, I want you to jump down from the chancel, and start to shout. You can use the words from Hark the Herald. You can shout ‘God and sinners reconciled!’ Or ‘Born to raise the sons of earth!’ Or ‘Veiled in flesh the Godhead see!’ Any of those lines, the same one over and over, or different ones.

“You see,” she said, “the gospel story says the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God: and I just don’t think you can do that, quietly. I bet they were loud. So I want you to shout out the message, nice and loud, as you slowly make your way toward the back of the sanctuary.”

Theodore and the other three boys thought that was certainly an interesting idea. Billy said, “I’m going to shout ‘God and sinners reconciled.’”

Alex thought for a moment, and then he said, “I like ‘Veiled in flesh the Godhead see, Hail the incarnate deity!’ That’s two lines, so if I shout that, and repeat it, it won’t sound like I’m just saying one single line.”

Theodore said, “I think I’ll do several of the lines there. ‘Christ by highest heaven adored, Christ the everlasting Lord.’ And ‘Light and life to all he brings.’ And ‘Joyful, all ye nations, rise, Join the triumph of the skies.’ I like them all.”

As he said that, he looked at Miss Grayson, and he saw something in her expression. He couldn’t tell exactly what it was. He could still see that deep sadness in her. But at that moment, as the boys were picking lines from Hark the Herald that they were going to shout and herald at the pageant, Theodore saw that there was also a deep joy, and somehow he knew it was a joy in Jesus. How did he know that? He couldn’t really tell. He wasn’t even sure if he could really put it into words, but as he looked at her he could see that even though something in her life had given her a lot of sadness, there was also this joy, this deep joy in Jesus, and it was pushing back against that sadness.

“Well, then,” said Miss Grayson. “Let’s just try that, shall we?” She told the four boys to go back to their shepherd spot at the side of the chancel. She said, “I’ll sing the last bit of the hymn, and then give the last line from the narrator. She sang: “Glory to the newborn King!” Then she said, “And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all that they had heard and seen.” And she gave a small hand signal, and the four boys jumped off the chancel, and started to shout.

But they didn’t shout. They sort of mumbled. Billy was the loudest; you could almost hear him saying “God and sinners reconciled.” But they were all pretty quiet, and that made them all get quieter, and suddenly no one was saying anything at all.

Except for Miss Grayson. “No,” she said. “That was not shouting. Remember, you have to proclaim it loud.” They tried it again. And again. And once again. And the boys slowly got a little louder.

“All right,” said Miss Grayson. “See you tomorrow at 4:00.”

The next afternoon at 4:00 the children came clattering in. The final rehearsal went well; which is to say, there were only three moments when they had to stop and do something over again. There was pizza and milk and gingerbread cookies for all the children, and then a brief “quiet time.” And then it was time for everyone to get into their costumes, and move to the room beside the sanctuary where they would wait for their time to step into the chancel and become part of the Christmas tableau.

The sanctuary was pretty full. Mothers and fathers, grandparents, aunts and uncles. The pastor welcomed everyone, and then said a prayer. Everyone sang “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” Then the pastor began to read the Christmas story. Mary and Joseph made their way to the center of the chancel, and sat down on their little stools. The angels spoke to the shepherds, who were watching over their sheep over by the piano, and then the shepherds and the sheep went to Bethlehem, and the angels hovered over the scene from their place on the risers at the back of the chancel. Wise men from the east entered from the southwest, and took their place opposite the shepherds, worshiping the newborn king. Everyone felt the rightness, the perfect rightness of the scene, and the children held their places in the tableau for a radiant moment.

Theodore was looking at the people in the congregation. Then one particular man caught his eye. It was a man in a blue suit. As Theodore looked at him, he saw that the man was – something. What was it? Theodore didn’t know. Then he realized that it was actually the man in the blue suit who didn’t know: the man in the blue suit didn’t know why he had come to the church that evening. There was this deep uncertainty in the man, and a longing, such a deep longing, and the man himself knew that he was longing, but he didn’t know what it was that he was longing for. But he was there.

Everyone in the congregation held their breath in anticipation of the first quiet notes of Silent Night. And then: the loud chords of Hark the Herald pealed out, and the children were singing, singing loud: Hark, the Herald Angels Sing Glory to the Newborn King! The whole congregation sat back in amazement. The children sang loud, and Miss Grayson stood up from the front pew, turned around and motioned to the congregation, and everyone was singing: Christ by highest heaven adored, Christ the everlasting Lord! All the way through to the final Glory to the Newborn King! Then, in the breathless silence after the hymn, the pastor’s voice declared: “And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all that they had heard and seen.”

The four shepherd boys moved to the edge of the chancel, Billy and Theodore in the middle, the other two boys heading toward the side aisles, and they jumped. As they jumped, they shouted: “Glory to the newborn king!” “God and sinners, reconciled!” “Hail the incarnate deity!” Wow!

They kept on shouting, as they began to move down the aisles toward the back. Off to the left Theodore saw Alex shouting and giving high fives as he skipped down the side aisle. But Theodore came to a stop there in the middle aisle, finding himself standing about three pews in front of the man in the blue suit, looking straight at him, and shouting, “Light and life to all he brings!” The man stared back at Theodore. Something was happening. Theodore couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but even though there was a lot of shouting going on now, and even though there were people in those pews between Theodore and the man in the blue suit, it was as if he and that one man were in a bubble, as if the two of them were the only two people in the room. Theodore shouted again: “Light and life to all he brings!”

The man started to smile, and then he took a half step forward and shouted at Theodore: “Light and life to all he brings!” Yes! Theodore shouted it again: “Light and life to all he brings!” And the man shouted it right back at Theodore: “Light and life to all he brings!” And Theodore gave him a high five, and went on past him and made his way to the back of the sanctuary, shouting all the way – and wondering what had happened inside the soul of the man with the blue suit.

In another moment or two, the shouting and the hubbub died down. The minister gave the benediction, and everyone went on home. And it was Christmas.